


Ling Chi

by WarpedChyld



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cannibalism-ish, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 23:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3627852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarpedChyld/pseuds/WarpedChyld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was a complete accident.</p><p>The second time was a deliberate accident.</p><p>The third time was deliberate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ling Chi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandspite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/gifts), [drinkbloodlikewine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drinkbloodlikewine/gifts).



> For my fic writing Deities [suntosirius](http://www.suntosirius.tumblr.com) (whiskeyandspite) and [ drinkbloodlikewine](http://www.drinkbloodlikewine.tumblr.com). You two have brought me and others so much joy. This is my tiny way of saying thank you. 
> 
> Shout out to [memorypalaceofwillgraham](http://www.memorypalaceofwillgraham.tumblr.com) for giving me the breath of air that ignited this spark.

The first time had been a complete accident.

 

Though Will would deny it to his dying breath, he was a jumble of nerves at seeing Hannibal again after so long. After all that had passed. Even more so he would deny how much it hurt to see the man he had one considered his...he didn’t know what he had considered Hannibal really. His other half maybe. Whatever it had been, whatever it no wasn’t, it hurt. To see him caged, outwardly placid but eyes burning fever bright with the tedium, the torture of being under Chilton’s “hospitality”.

 

Will had made the mistake of direct eye contact as he slid the files through the bars. The cage a reward for Hannibal for good behavior. Both he and Hannibal knew Chilton just wanted to rub it in, let Will be so close yet Hannibal unable to touch. Or better yet, have Hannibal go after Will, give chilton a valid excuse to heap on more indignities.  Stack of papers slid through, a careless glance into Hannibal’s eyes and Will felt himself ensnared by the jumble of emotions he saw, felt.  It was only when a sharp paper edge opened the side of his finger did Will blink, hissing at the pain though it was more in surprise than anything else.

 

Will pulled back his finger, watching crimson bloom bright. Before he had moved even an inch, his hand had been snared, surprised as always as Hannibal’s speed. Pull back, move, no touching allowed all the warning screamed. They were unheeded. Louder was the near silent siren call of Hannibal’s breathing, elevated so slightly none save Will would be aware of it as the doctor pulled his hand close.

 

Maroon and blue locked, Will’s lips parting in a soft gasp as Hannibal’s parted in hunger, encircling the injured digit. Well felt the press of sharp teeth, a predators teeth. Teeth that could easily tear through skin and ligament, snap through a join with surgical precision. Teeth that merely pressed enough to hold as a warm tongue laved the cut and lips applied a gentle suction.

 

Both would never admit to the soft moans they made.

 

Both felt them to their very marrow.

 

Hannibal had slid the finger carefully from his mouth, letting his teeth scrape along it, a reminder of what he could have done but did not. A reminder of what he could do yet if the notion took him.

 

Will briefly thinks he would let him.

 

Reality intrudes in the face of an orderly, Barney, Will vaguely recalls his name. He does not yell or threaten like most orderlies, like Chilton would have. He excuses himself for interrupting but he does have to remind them there is no touching and Will must stay back.

 

Hannibal nods and apologizes.

 

Will feels his face flame, mumbles something about coming back when Hannibal has read the everything and flees. Flees back to home, back to Molly, back to safety and sanity.  And if he sits in his car for 10 minutes, shaking and stretching the cut, making it bleed before sliding it into his own mouth, no one knows but him.

 

And if that night, he touches himself to the image of Hannibal’s eyes, pupils blown wide with raw want. To the phantom press of sharp teeth and a rough tongue. Cumming so hard he near blacks out when the finger that had been in Hannibal’s mouth brushes the slick head of his cock...no one knows but him.

 

The first time was a complete accident.

 

The second time was a deliberate accident.

 

More papers for Hannibal. Another grisly murder Will could not see.  Again the phantom pain in his chest at seeing Hannibal caged.  If either remembered what happened last time, neither mentioned it.

 

They both remembered. They both knew the other remembered as vividly as they did.

 

Will did not make the mistake of looking Hannibal in the eyes this time. He stayed behind the line, did not engage in any conversation other than what needed to be said. His heart did not skip a beat and he did not swallow when he saw Hannibals tongue briefly flick out to wet his lips.

 

He didn’t deliberately position the papers so the ones with the bent stapler were on the bottom. But neither did he deliberately fix it so they were not. He did not deliberately grab them at the corner hard enough for the sharp piece of metal to pierce his finger, the same one with the still healing cut from last time. But neither did he make sure he wouldn’t.

 

The small prick of pain was just enough to make his hand clench, drive the metal deeper. Just deep enough, make him hold on long enough, for a single red drop to stain the pages. Will’s expression was as calm and composed as any Hannibal could have done back in his heydey when he released the papers into Hannibal’s hand.

 

This time, Will did not make it home, sitting in his car in the BSHCI, whimpering as he stroked himself fiercely. He could only see the stark hunger on Hannibal’s face, the way he had inhaled the scent of Will’s blood deeply. Could only hear Hannibal’s indrawn breath and soft growl. Could only feel that tongue and those teeth again. And as he spilled over his hand, his shirt, he saw everything painted red as the blood streaked down his finger and once more smeared over his cock.

 

He tells Molly he was late because of car trouble. Grease stains ruined his shirt so he threw it away. Luckily his pants are dark enough to hide the two drops of blood.

 

The first time was a complete accident

 

The second time was a deliberate accident.

 

The third time was deliberate.

 

Hannibal behind bulletproof glass. Looking more feral and hungry than ever, his eyes tracking every move, every breath Will takes. When Will sits, he sees the doctor arch his neck, still so graceful as he inhales deeply. They stare at each other, Will looking directly into Hannibal’s without so much as flinching.

 

The last time they maintained eye contact this long, blood had been spilled. Will’s blood.  So he saw no reason to change things.  Knives were not allowed. Anything that could be used as a weapon was not allowed.

 

The pen is supposed to be mightier than the sword.

 

Will pulls out his notebook. He is here to discuss the cases and needs to take notes. Neither of them say anything about the recorder visible in his briefcase.  Next comes a small case, almost like an eyeglass case.

 

Hannibal’s eyes widen and he sits up slightly when he sees it. He knows what’s in it. He knows what’s coming and he glances sharply back to Will.

 

Out of the case comes a beautiful, antique dip pen. Handle carved from antler, metal point gleaming even in the pitiful lighting in the hall.

 

Hannibal knows it’s sharp enough to pierce skin.

 

Will bought it because he knew it was sharp enough for what he wanted.

 

“Whenever you are ready, Dr. Lecter” Will begins, tone polite, belying the almost savage way he digs the metal nib into his arm, not even grimacing as it parts skin and muscle, the tiny channels soaking up his blood.

 

Legs crossed, relaxing almost casually, notebook propped, Will holds the red stained pen above the paper.

 

Hannibal no longer looks feral, or hungry. He looks...sad Will guesses. Diminished, and not just from imprisonment. Seeing Will. Smelling him. Tasting him. Knowing what Will is doing. Each cut on Will finding its mark even deeper on Hannibal. No guilt though. But then again, Will was not expecting _that_.  

 

Hannibal’s eyes go from the pen, to the wound in Will’s arm, sluggishly bleeding, and finally to Will’s eyes.

 

Will holds his gaze, unflinchingly.  

 

The last time they maintained eye contact this long, blood had been spilled.

 

Will’s blood.  

 

So he saw no reason to change things.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lingchi - Death by a thousand cuts. A method of execution used in China in which the executioners task was to make as many cuts as possible without killing the victim.


End file.
